


A 'Swiftie' Christmas Special

by SeeBeeStrellacott



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Smut, F/M, Inspired by Taylor Swift, Mistletoe, Porn with Feelings, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28253433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeBeeStrellacott/pseuds/SeeBeeStrellacott
Summary: Robin hosts a Christmas party.  There's music by Taylor Swift, dancing, kissing, and smut - what more do you need?
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 24
Kudos: 64





	1. I Did Something Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hidetheteaspoons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidetheteaspoons/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from hidetheteaspoons, AKA @Greenie, for Taylor Swift's song Dress. Also includes some other prompts she didn't realize she gave me. Enjoy 😉
> 
> This chapter includes [ this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYLxUJ9v6KU) by Taylor Swift.

Robin finished applying her lipstick, a deep red color that she would never have picked out for herself, thinking that it would clash with her red-gold hair. The saleswoman had insisted that it would look stunning on her, and she had to agree, it really did look nice against her pale skin. 

She stepped back from the mirror and struck a pose, pursing out her lips and jutting her hip to one side. She had splurged and bought a new dress for the party tonight, and though she wasn’t one for vanity, she was quite pleased with how it showed off her figure.

The dress was strappy and champagne-colored, and it glittered with thousands of delicate beads. The low-cut neckline showed just a hint of decolletage. A darker champagne-colored sash accentuated her waist, and tied in a sweet bow at the front. Robin pulled on some heels and finished her ensemble with a few spritzes of Narciso.

She went upstairs, where Max was putting the finishing touches on the decorations for their Christmas party. Robin noticed that he had hung mistletoe everywhere. She wasn’t sure if the sight of it was encouraging or frightening, or perhaps a little bit of both. She poured herself a glass of wine to help loosen her nerves. 

The entire guest list for their party were couples, except for herself and Strike. But she hoped that might change soon. Not only had they grown much closer since her divorce, they were doing more of “that talking thing”, and there had even been what Robin  _ thought  _ was flirting.

Her birthday this year was one of the best nights of her life, and arguably a  _ date _ . The conversation had flowed as smoothly and effortlessly as the champagne, with casual touches here and there of a playful elbow, or a light hand on the arm. Strike had walked her home and had kissed her on the cheek before saying goodnight. 

Strike’s birthday had been equally date-like, as he had said that she was really the only person he wanted to spend his birthday with. They had gotten cozy over drinks in the Tottenham, and Robin surprised him with a small cupcake and a candle. The next night he had agreed to have dinner at Nick and Ilsa’s, and had insisted that Robin should accompany him lest Ilsa try to set him up with anyone. When the party had moved into the living room, Strike had sat next to her on the sofa instead of his usual armchair.

And so when Strike had said that he was definitely coming to her party on Christmas Eve, Robin felt distinctly hopeful that perhaps the alcohol, the atmosphere, and her new dress might help move things in the right direction. 

The door buzzer announced the arrival of their first guests, who happened to be Max’s boyfriend and some of his actor friends. Robin had just shut the door after letting them in when the buzzer sounded again. Robin opened the door and her heart quite literally skipped a beat. Strike was standing in front of her, not only on time but  _ early _ , and wearing a jumper with a large ridiculous-looking reindeer on the front. Robin bit back her laugh as he stepped over the threshold. 

Strike noticed the smirk she failed to repress. “It’s a present from Jack. He thought it would help me look smart for your party.”

“He was right,” Robin giggled, “You look quite dashing.” She continued to smile up at him, forcibly reminded of Colin Firth’s character from Bridget Jones’ Diary.

“Hey, Bosses,” came Barclay’s voice from behind Strike. “Mistletoe,” he said as they both turned to greet him. He was pointing above their heads, where Max had evidently hung some mistletoe.

Strike and Robin turned back to each other hesitantly, which only served to highlight their mutual awkwardness.

Barclay nudged Strike in the back. “Hurry up and kiss her, it’s cold oot here. It’s bad luck if ye don’t.”

Strike chuckled and hurriedly bent to kiss her cheek before making his way upstairs. Robin hoped her cheeks weren’t too obviously pink as Barclay paused under the mistletoe for a kiss as well.

Throughout the evening, Robin’s cheek continued to burn and tingle where Strike’s lips had touched. Every time his eyes would meet hers from across the room, she felt the ghost of his kiss against her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but he seemed to be focusing on her more than usual. Robin distractedly greeted the other guests as they trickled in, trying to work out the best way to make her feelings for him clear. Although with the way he kept looking at her, it might not be that difficult. 

***

Strike watched from the sofa as Robin danced with Vanessa, Michelle, and her wife Leah. The women were all slightly drunk and giggly, dancing and singing to Taylor Swift’s “I Did Something Bad.” Strike tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. Robin was radiant in that new dress. It showed off her delicate shoulders beautifully, and Strike found it increasingly difficult to focus his attention away from the bit of cleavage that was on display. 

Robin happened to turn and catch him watching her as she sang along to the next lines of the song:

_ Now all he thinks about is me _

_ I can feel the flames on my skin _

_ Crimson red paint on my lips _

Her lips were indeed a lovely crimson red tonight, Strike had noticed. The color had faded somewhat over the evening, being slowly eroded away by food and drink, but she still looked lovely. Strike didn’t particularly care for getting lipstick transferred to his mouth, but he didn’t think he would mind that color so much, if it meant he got to taste Robin’s lips.

_ They say I did something bad _

_ But why's it feel so good? _

_ Most fun I ever had _

_ And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could _

As Strike watched Robin dancing, he couldn’t help but think that doing something bad sounded rather fun indeed. Feeling eyes on him, Strike turned his head to find Barclay watching him, watching Robin. The Scot quirked an eyebrow at his boss, then turned back to his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist. 


	2. State of Grace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [ this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_Nn8XBNIbQ), also by Taylor Swift.

Hoping to divert scrutiny away from himself and the attention he was paying Robin, Strike went to get another drink. He spent more time than necessary in the kitchen, not _hiding_ exactly, but trying to get his thoughts in order. He and Robin had definitely grown closer over the past few months. He knew what he felt for her was well beyond friendship. He craved her company at all times, but especially in moments like this - holidays or special occasions where most people were surrounded by family and loved ones. He didn’t have much family he wanted to spend time with, but Robin had come to feel something like family. There were many nights where the emptiness of his flat seemed to press in on him. It was these nights in particular where he thought of Robin and the warmth she brought to his life.

The party had occupied his mind for the last several days. It seemed to loom above him, like the proverbial carrot, urging him forward. The night felt significant for reasons he couldn’t identify. Perhaps it was because he had never seen Robin on Christmas Eve; maybe it was that she had chosen to stay in London for Christmas and so had he; maybe it was the new dress she had obviously bought for the occasion; it could have been the fact that they had been on several of what were unequivocally dates; or maybe it was the way she kept looking at him tonight. Whatever the reason, this night felt like a pivotal point in their relationship. Strike was filled with an urgency to show her just how much he cared for her. Though he knew the feeling was somewhat irrational, Strike felt as if it was now or never. 

The whisky flowing through him urged him forward and gave him the courage to make that final leap. As he slowly made his way back to the main room, Strike noticed the music had changed. This was a much slower song, and he thought he recognized that it was still Taylor Swift. He smiled to himself, realizing that Robin must be a fan, because this was definitely not Max’s playlist.

_I'm walking fast through the traffic lights_

_Busy streets and busy lives_

_And all we know_

_Is touch and go_

_We are alone with our changing minds_

_We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds_

_Or fades in time_

The lyrics seemed to pierce directly into his heart. He caught Robin’s eye and he could see that she felt it too. They both knew what it was to bleed from love. 

The other couples were all lost in each other, either whispering together in quiet corners, or dancing and holding each other close. Robin gazed around the room, looking a little lost and out of place in her own home, her loneliness on display for all her friends to see. Strike’s hands itched to touch her, to hold her, to comfort her. She started picking up empty glasses and plates, distracting herself by cleaning. Strike crossed over to her, set down his glass and gently pulled the empties from her hands.

“Leave that,” he murmured and grasped her hand. “Dance with me.”

“Now?” Robin squeaked, caught off guard.

Strike grinned at her, “It’s easier when there’s music playing.”

Robin smiled back at him as she allowed him to pull her against him. Her heart was hammering so hard, she was certain he must be able to feel it against his chest. Strike wrapped a hand softly around her waist, resting just near the small of her back. Robin rested her hand on his shoulder, gently kneading the plush wool of his jumper. She smiled at the lurid reindeer and felt a rush of affection for the man before her.

_And I never_

_Saw you coming_

_And I'll never_

_Be the same_

Strike dipped his head down closer to hers, as they slowly revolved on the spot. Robin inhaled the scent of his lavender aftershave, his already stubbled cheek scratching lightly against hers.

_You come around and the armor falls_

_Pierce the room like a cannonball_

_Now all we know_

_Is don't let go_

Strike gave her hand a small squeeze and tucked it against his chest. His nose was tantalizingly close to her neck. If he just dipped his head a little further, he could graze her skin. Conscious of the other people in the room, he resisted nuzzling into her, even as she pressed herself closer into him.

_We learn to live with the pain_

_Mosaic broken hearts_

_But this love is brave and wild_

Robin pressed her cheek more firmly against his and squeezed his shoulder, acknowledging the more intimate position in which he had placed their hands, and hoping to convey how strongly she connected these lyrics with her best friend and business partner, and how much his friendship had changed her for the better.

_These are the hands of fate_

_You're my Achilles heel_

_This is the golden age of something good_

_And right and real_

“You look lovely tonight,” he murmured in her ear as his thumb brushed over the backs of her knuckles.

“Thank you. Love your jumper,” she teased back. “Jack has good taste.”

She felt his chest rumble with a quiet chuckle. His breath tickled against her ear as whispered, “He said he thought it might impress you.”

A swooping sensation in Robin’s stomach nearly made it impossible for her to respond. She was thankful for Strike’s hand at her back, or she might have slid into a puddle on the floor. She sounded a bit breathless as she said, “So he’s joined the ranks of our matchmakers, has he?”

“He has. He likes you. Everyone likes you.”

_And I never_

_Saw you coming_

_And I'll never_

_Be the same_

Strike pulled back to look into her eyes. She arched into him as she peered up at him with her clear blue-gray eyes. His attention was drawn to her lips, which had parted slightly, and Strike lost track of his feet, which had completely stilled, abandoning the dance.

_This is a state of grace_

_This is the worthwhile fight_

_Love is a ruthless game_

_Unless you play it good and right_

If it weren’t for the hand that clapped his shoulder, Strike would have completely forgotten that there were other people in the room.

“Are ye goin’ tae kiss her or what?” Barclay’s voice sounded from somewhere next to him.

Strike turned in alarm, his hands dropping guiltily away from Robin. Barclay pointed above them at the mistletoe that happened to hang above their heads.

“Kiss her already, so I can cut in.” Barclay’s voice held a hint of raillery, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Strike quickly dipped his head to give Robin a kiss on the cheek, which she hastened to reciprocate. He gave her fingers a little squeeze before stepping away to allow Barclay to take his place.


	3. Dress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [ this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSk84jfnk50) by Taylor Swift.

The party had slowly wound down as guests trickled out. Max and his boyfriend had retired downstairs to his bedroom and soon the only guest left was Strike, who uncharacteristically seemed reluctant to leave. Music was still issuing from Robin’s phone as she set about clearing up. Strike gathered up some empty glasses and trash and to take to the kitchen as a new song started.

_Our secret moments in your crowded room_

_They've got no idea about me and you_

He turned and nearly plowed into Robin, who had apparently snuck up behind him as he deposited his items in the kitchen. He grabbed her arms to steady her. Her skin was smooth and soft, and his hands lingered on her arms, unwilling to let her go.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked, her cheeks a little flushed. 

_All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation_

_My hands are shaking from holding back from you_

For a moment, Strike couldn’t concentrate on her words, distracted as he was by the smoothness of her skin and the curve of her lips, a wave of warm musk wafting up from her neck. He barely managed an affirmative grunt after swallowing heavily.

_Say my name and everything just stops_

_I don't want you like a best friend_

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_

Strike’s eyes involuntarily dropped to her beautiful sparkly dress, as the song led his mind in a direction he couldn’t help but follow. His gaze was darker and heated when his eyes returned to hers. Robin’s breath caught and she stepped into him slightly, silently telling him that in his arms was exactly where she wanted to be.

_Carve your name into my bedpost_

_'Cause I don't want you like a best friend_

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_

Robin looked above his head and grinned. _Bless Max and his mistletoe_ , she thought. Strike’s eyes followed hers, a small smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.

“You reckon this must be some kind of record?” he teased. 

“Definitely,” Robin joked. “Do you have to do something special on the third one?”

“I think that’s a kiss on both cheeks.”

Strike bent his head to hers once more, but this time there was no rush as his lips pressed against her skin, close to the corner of her mouth. He pulled back slightly to kiss her other cheek, even closer to the corner of her mouth. As Robin kissed him back, he paused, relishing the feeling of her lips on his skin.

_All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation_

_My hands are shaking from holding back from you_

Robin turned her head slightly, her lips just grazing the corner of his mouth. As she started to pull away, Strike responded instinctively, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his. His lips were insistent, claiming her mouth with the passion he had so long held at bay. A small whimper escaped Robin’s lips as she opened to him. Strike’s hand brushed up her arm, grazing over her shoulder and into her hair.

_I don't want you like a best friend_

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_

Robin’s tongue flicked hungrily against his as he invaded her mouth. There was no hesitancy here, only the mutual release of forbidden desire. Robin’s fingers clinched on his chest, grabbing handfuls of his jumper. Strike could feel her nails lightly scratching at his skin through the thick wool. As his hand caressed the skin of her shoulder, the strap of her dress slipped down her arm. 

_Only bought this dress so you could take it off_

Unable to resist her freshly exposed skin, he dropped his head to her neck, then her shoulder as he kissed along her clavicle, his stubble scratching pleasingly at her skin. Robin’s dead dipped back and she arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest. Strike scraped his chin along her skin, back up to her neck. He paused to lavish kisses in the hollow of her throat, down her sternum, and back up to her mouth. He pulled back to look at her, cupping her cheek with one hand. 

“Was that okay? Sorry, I got a little carried away.” His thumb brushed over her the freckles on her cheekbone. 

Robin tried to smile, but her muscles didn’t seem to be working at the moment. She managed a breathless, “That was definitely more than a kiss on both cheeks.”

Strike chuckled. “I’m sorry, that’s not really how I wanted to tell you, but you sort of caught me off guard and I let my emotions get the better of me.”

“How did you want to tell me?”

Strike looked into the cloudy blue of her eyes, feeling like he was jumping headfirst from a cliff into the stormy sea below. He swallowed heavily. “Well, I didn’t really have it planned out. But something along the lines of ‘You’re the most important thing in my life, there’s no one else I would rather run the agency with, and…’ “ he paused, looking towards the direction of the music still issuing from the living room. He turned back to her and grinned. “And ‘I don’t want you like a best friend.’ “

Robin released an unflattering sound that was somewhere between a sob and laugh, her eyes shining with moisture. “There’s something I was wanting to tell you too.”

“Yeah?”

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

Strike practically growled as his eyes darkened and his cock twitched. Robin pressed herself against him and he jutted his hips forwards slightly, not bothering to hide his now substantial erection.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He saw the truth in her gaze, and he slowly dropped his face to hers to give her a tender kiss.

Robin quickly ended the kiss and took his hand in hers, pulling him forward to the stairs.


	4. Pillowtalk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_3d6GntKbk) by ZAYN.

> _I'm seeing the pain, seeing the pleasure_
> 
> _Nobody but you, 'body but me_
> 
> _'Body but us, bodies together_
> 
> _I love to hold you close, tonight and always_
> 
> _I love to wake up next to you_

Robin closed the door to her bedroom, Strike hovering behind her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face in her hair, but he knew that people approaching behind her was a trigger for her. So instead he reached out a hand to her, his fingers lightly grazing on the small of her back, and waited for her to turn to him. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached for his hand and wrapped it around her waist, pulling him flush against her, back to chest, in the ultimate show of trust. The significance was not lost on Strike.

As Robin pressed her arse firmly into him, he swept her hair over her shoulder, and brushed his nose along her hairline, inhaling the combined aromas of her shampoo and perfume. Robin leaned her head back into him, encouraging him to explore with his lips and tongue. He tasted her skin, sampling different areas and looking for the spots that made her mewl under his touch. He found several, though her favorite seemed to be the spot where her neck and shoulder met. He lavished his attention on this hidden jewel until Robin was melting against him and panting for more. 

Her arse grinding against his erection gave him permission to explore her body further, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. Robin’s chest heaved and her hands came up to cover his, squeezing kneading the soft mounds. 

Strike slipped a hand down into the neckline of her dress and found that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipple was taught, pressing insistently into his palm, demanding his attention. He flicked over the hardened bud with his thumb, and Robin nearly collapsed in his arms. 

“You like that?” he rasped in her ear. Robin merely whimpered in response.

Striked lightly pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and Robin dropped her head back against his shoulder. Her knees were weak and her body sagged against him, but his firm grip around her waist held her upright. He pulled at her dress, trying to free her breasts. 

“Can I take this off?”

Robin nodded against him and leaned forward so he could reach her zipper. He pulled the metal downward, slowly revealing the creamy, freckled expanse of her back. Robin turned in his arms to face him and pushed the straps from her shoulders. The dress fell from her chest and caught on her ample hips. Strike groaned low in his throat at the sight of her exposed flesh. There was a slight flush creeping across her chest and neck, as if there was a fire burning beneath her skin that he alone could extinguish. 

Strike was unable to tear his eyes away from her beautifully smooth skin, or the delicate pink of her nipples. His fingers danced across her skin, tracing a path from the dress at her hips up her sides and over the curve of her waist, and finally cupping her breasts in his palms. He lifted them, feeling their heavy weight. He loved how they fit perfectly in his large hands, as if they were crafted just for him. He loved how dark his skin looked against hers in its paleness, how obscenely masculine his long fingers looked against the elegant curve of her tits.

Strike dropped his head to her chest, lavishing kisses across her skin. His stubble scratched pleasurably at her, deepening the flush sweeping up her neck. He tweaked her nipples between his fingers as he kissed his way towards one of the hardened buds. He sucked the peak into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. Robin threaded her fingers through his curls as she arched into him. She had never particularly enjoyed her nipples being played with, but the sight of Cormoran’s mouth covering the pink tip was incredibly hot. He was teasing her flesh in a way she had never experienced, and she rather liked it. A frisson of anticipation swept down her spine, sending a shock of heat straight to her core. She wondered what other pleasures he could show her.

Robin had a sudden need to see him, to explore his body as thoroughly as he was exploring hers. She tugged clumsily at his reindeer jumper. Strike pulled his mouth away from her breast so he could reach behind him to pull the jumper and undershirt over his head. His hair was slightly rumpled and he grinned down at Robin as he tossed the jumper towards the chair in the corner. 

Robin reached out to run her fingers over his pecs. Strike flexed slightly as her fingers groped at his muscles. He experienced a surge of pride as Robin gazed appreciatively at his chest and stomach, her fingers trailing down his hairy abdomen and hooking into his waistband. His hips pushed into her reflexively. Her hands pulled gently at his waistband as she leaned into him for a kiss. Strike thought, or perhaps hoped, that she was debating dropping her hands lower. After a moment's hesitation, Robin slowly and tentatively moved her hand lower, cupping his erection through his trousers. Strike moaned and deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her mouth. 

Encouraged, Robin grasped him more firmly and rubbed along his significant length. Strike hissed in a breath when she reached the sensitive head, twirling her fingers over it. There was a small damp spot where his pre-cum had soaked through his boxers and trousers. He wanted to feel her hand against his skin, but he was enjoying watching Robin gain confidence as she explored his body. 

Robin unzipped his fly and snuck her hand inside. She grasped him over his boxers, stroking up and down his shaft several times before slipping her hand under the fabric and grazing across his skin. Strike grunted as her fingers wrapped around his shaft and lightly stroked him. His hands danced down her back, over her dress, and down the backs of her smooth thighs. His hands ruffled up her dress, sneaking up to grip her arse. Her knickers felt like lace, and he was dying to know what color she had chosen. He squeezed and kneaded her supple flesh, relishing the way the lace moved over her skin. He hooked his thumbs into the edge of her knickers, feeling the skin of her arse. 

“Cormoran,” she moaned against his lips, as she unbuckled his belt and unfasted the button on his trousers, which fell immediately to his knees. His cock hardened impossibly further at the sound of his name on her lips.

Robin looked between them, at the very noticeable tent in his boxers. She felt a thrill at how much he obviously wanted her. Feeling emboldened, Robin pulled his cock through the opening in his boxers. He was quite larger than she had thought, and she felt herself growing wetter. She licked her lips, wondering how much of his length she could fit in her mouth, or what he would taste like.

Robin dropped to her knees before him. There was a bead of moisture on the head of his cock, and Robin’s tongue flicked out to taste it. Strike swept her hair back from her face so he could watch her mouth sinking over his shaft. Robin looked up at him from under her eyelashes and Strike was overcome with affection for her. He groaned when her tongue rasped along the underside of his sensitive head. Robin grinned against him and sucked as much of his length into her mouth as she could. Her head bobbed back and forth, alternating between licking the head and taking him deep into her throat. The sloppy noises emanating from her mouth on his prick were making it difficult for Strike to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to overtake him. When Robin pulled her mouth off of him with a pop, he noticed there were streaks of her crimson lipstick painting the length of his dick. 

She was about to engulf his cock with her warm mouth once more when Strike cupped her cheeks and tilted his hips back away from her. He grasped her arms and pulled her up to him. “Let me feel you,” he murmured. 

Strike tugged the dress down over her hips, revealing lacy white knickers. They were so sheer he could _almost_ make out the top of her slit. His fingers brushed over the fabric at her hips, one hand continuing around to grip her arse, the other hand sliding forward to brush over her clit. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue claiming her as his own. One hand kneaded her supple arse, the other traced delicious circles over her sensitive mound. Robin moaned into him and spread her legs slightly, giving him better access. 

“Does that feel good?” he rasped. Robin nodded, breathless.

“Do you want me to make you come?” His voice was deep and sultry, full of confidence. Robin nodded again.

“Tell me. Tell me you want me to make you come,” he directed.

Robin moaned his name, “Cormoran, I want to come for you. Please, Cormoran.”

Strike yanked her knickers to the side and slipped his finger into her silky folds. He flicked at her clit and murmured, “Do you want my finger here,” he slid his finger down to probe at her opening, “or here?”

“Both,” Robin gasped, causing him to grin.

Strike slipped a hand into the waistband of her knickers to toy with her clit while he simultaneously slipped his finger into her entrance. He hooked his finger gently within her, bringing forth a wave of pleasure. 

“Like this?” he asked, a cheeky grin tugging at his uneven lips.

“Mm-hm. Fuck, Cormoran.” Strike’s grin widened at her muttered oath. It had sounded like _fook_.

Strike slipped another finger into her heat and Robin’s head fell back on a long moan, her knees beginning to tremble. Strike walked her backwards a few steps, pushing her up against the wall. Robin leaned against it, grateful for the extra support. His fingers resumed their ministrations, driving her to the brink of delicious oblivion.

“I want you to come in your knickers,” he demanded in her ear. 

Her breathing was becoming erratic and her neck and cheeks were bright red, a sure sign that she was lost in pleasure. Strike watched her face scrunching and slackening, memorizing every expression. Her moans were becoming higher-pitched, and Strike was certain that she was close to the edge. 

“Open your eyes, Robin. I want you to look at me when you come.”

Robin obeyed, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He held her gaze, coaxing her forward with his fingers. His fingers flexed against her most pleasurable spot, and suddenly the damn broke. Her orgasm surged forward and she cried out his name. Her eyes threatened to flutter closed, but she kept them open for him, just as he had instructed her to. When her cries had quieted and she had caught her breath once more, Robin giggled as it sunk in that Cormoran’s fingers were deep in her cunt.

“That was so fucking hot,” Strike chuckled, dropping his head to kiss along her ear. 

“Let’s see if you can do it again,” Robin responded coquettishly, pushing him towards the bed. 

Strike suddenly swept her legs out from under her, swinging her up into his arms. He carried her a few steps to the bed, then laid her as gently as he could onto the mattress. He stepped back and pulled his boxers down and kicked them to the side, allowing his cock to spring free.

“I have a condom in my wallet, or are you…?”

“I’m on the pill,” Robin answered.

Strike leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her lips before sitting on the bed next to her so he could deal with his prosthesis. Robin scratched her fingernails lightly over his back while she waited, anxious to feel his bulk hovering over her. He set the false leg next to the bed where he could reach it and swung himself on top of her. He pulled her knickers down her legs and tossed them carelessly behind him before moving back over her. His cock bumped against her moistened flesh and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, begging him to enter her. 

Strike clasped her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and pinning her wrist to the mattress above her head. He rocked his hips against her, rubbing his cock against her clit. 

“Cormoran, please,” Robin pleaded, “I need you inside me.”

She hitched her legs higher on his waist, opening herself to receive him. Strike looked in her eyes and changed the angle of his hips so that his cock pressed against her opening. Slowly he thrust forward, entering her tight heat. He continued pushing forward until he was buried deep within her. Robin gasped as he filled her so completely.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Robin nodded, “Yes! God, yes! Cormoran, please don’t stop.”

She kissed him hungrily, wildly, as she rocked against him, trying to get him to move within her. Strike chuckled and thrust into her, undulating his hips in the most delicious way. Robin grasped at his arse, pulling him into her. Strike thrust into her harder and she moaned, throwing her head back in pleasure. He took the opportunity to nuzzle into her neck, the warm musk of her Narciso filling his senses. 

“Robin, my darling girl, you feel incredible.” He nipped at her earlobe and Robin’s fingers dug more firmly into his arse. 

Her moans were spurring him on, encouraging him to drive into her harder and deeper. Her nails were digging painfully into his arse, but he relished the pain, knowing it was borne from the pleasure he was giving her. With her golden hair splayed out on her pillow like a halo, she was the perfect image of angelic beauty; her repetitive pleas to a deity accentuated the likeness. Strike thrilled everytime his name tumbled from her crimson lips, with decreasing coherency. She mewled under his touch as he continued to pound into her. He was pleasantly surprised that she seemed to like it just a little rough. He had been expecting gentle tenderness, which he also enjoyed, but hearing his name combined with “fuck me harder” was causing him to lose control embarrassingly quickly. 

He changed the angle of his thrusts, seeking out her favorite spot in an effort to distract himself from his own pleasure. He knew he had found it when her neck arched and she pushed her head back into her pillows, her mouth forming a perfect “o” shape. 

Strike ground his pelvis against her clit, giving her the extra friction she required. “That’s it, love. Let me feel you come,” he coaxed. 

Her cries suddenly became wild shouts of pleasure and her legs convulsed around his waist. Strike felt his own release break free with an unstoppable force, and he emptied himself into her with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure that was now verging on pain and attempted to keep up the relentless pace of his thrusts, even as his cock began to soften. He carried her through her orgasm, which peaked with a long high-pitched squeal and a flood of wetness around his cock. 

His thrusts slowed and stilled as he kissed up her neck and over her jaw to the corner of her mouth. She panted against him, trying to catch her breath. He traced his path back over her jaw and neck, giving her more time to recover before he could claim her mouth once more. She turned her head and lightly bit his earlobe, and she felt him grin against her neck. He pulled back to look in her eyes. 

“I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything as perfect as that for Christmas,” she teased.

“Yes you did,” he answered her, and his eyes glistened with emotion. “You gave me _you_.”

Robin smiled, holding back the tears that threatened to fall.

He continued cheekily, “And I thoroughly enjoyed unwrapping you.”

Robin giggled and placed a soft kiss on his lips. “Merry Christmas, Cormoran.”

“Merry Christmas, Robin. My love.”


End file.
